James at the edge of the Queen
“one for old times”
tossed the brand new bag
100cc outfits
into my lap
orange cap shinning  --
fine yellowish powder sprinkles
across grandmothers silver
flick of the Bic
sour lemon stank filled room
slow draw through a shirt string
cotton ball of choice
holding 65cc’s of uncut prop-dope
…an impossibility today –
indented  armpit skin
as the nearly clear liquid
takes on a pink tinge
the artery never fails to deliver
plunger plunged plunging impurities –
gag cough from my belly
wave crashes and sweat pours
to amped to sit still
the car calls –
miles out of the way before arrival
at her benefactors home
sweetest of faces snuggled
on a blanket pallet on the living room floor
as I feverishly pencil
bad poetry
until daybreak –
November the fourth
2002
this was the last time
these were the last actions
of a strung out needle freak
breaking new ground
by leaving the past behind –